Sequel: A Serious House on Serious Earth ›
Status: Sequel? Yes? No?
The Joker and the Thief
Cheers
My arm started to ache, probably from the gunshot wound not the fall I took, as we drove back to the house. The two men kept entering my thoughts even as I tried desperately to lock them out but they kept finding cracks in my defenses. I cradled my head in my hands and I closed my eyes. My mind was almost clear, almost free of the terrible thing I just did when, as usual, the Joker interrupted my flow of concentration. “You okay?” Behind my hands, I rolled my eyes. He was probably just fishing for something else he could use against me.
“My arm. It hurts.” I said through gritted teeth. But it wasn't just my arm that hurt; my entire body hurt. My head, my arm, the entire left side of my body. I was bruised and battered, both physically and mentally. At this point, I just wanted the pain to go away. When the Joker parked the car in the garage, I jumped out and ran for the garage door. I'm sure the Joker was confused by my decision to ran in the house and not away from it.
I headed directly to the small bathroom. From the silence, I figured the guys were still disposing of the body. I kicked myself for letting my mind wonder back to them. I rummaged through the medicine cabinet but all I found was a bunch of old, empty bottles. I even looked in the cupboard beneath the sink but it was empty. The Joker appeared in the doorway and looked on as I went through the medicine cabinet to make sure I didn't miss anything. “What in the world are you looking for?” He asked in a teasing voice.
I exhaled slowly. The pain, I was certain it was the physical version not the mental, was becoming almost unbearable. I felt a strong urge to bang my head against the mirror in hope making the pain go away.. “I have a fucking headache. I need an Advil or a Tylenol. Hell, even a fuckin' Midol would suffice.” I wasn't a big user of profanity but when those words started to slip out it was hard to stop them.
The Joker seemed a little taken aback by my sudden use of obscene language. “You could have just asked. No need to get all bitchy about it.” I followed him out of the bathroom and down the hallway. I stopped at the end of the counter while the Joker continued on to the refrigerator. He opened the white dingy door and produce two beer bottles. He threw one in my direction, which I caught but not without a sharp pain. Maybe this man was insane. I asked for Midol and he gave me alcohol.
“You're not serious, are you?” I asked cautiously. I was a lot of things but I wasn't a drinker, at least not anymore. There was probably only one law which I'd never broke; the legal drinking age. I decided it was best not to drink when I spent most of my time in the presence of men I truly didn't know. I found this to be a similar situation.
“Kid, the only medication in this house is in your hand. Take it or leave it.” I looked down at the bottle in my hand and then back to the Joker, who was still standing smugly next to the frig. The pain in my head made the decision for me. I walked cautiously to the refrigerator door, opened it, and grabbed another beer to go with the one already in my hand. When I closed the door a small metal bottle opener had appeared in the Joker's hand. “Cheers.” He said with a grin.
When I woke up the next morning, I promised myself that I would never drink again. Sure the pain in my torso and limbs were gone but the pain in my head had only seemed to grow. I couldn't remember anything from the previous night but I still had all my clothes on, so I figured that was a good thing. When I looked out the small window I could see the sun rising in the east. According to the round clock hanging on the wall it was 6:35. It was early, much too early for my hangover and I, but I still couldn't go back to sleep.
After a short while of rolling around in the bed, trying to force my body to go back to sleep, I climbed out of the bed, or more like fell out of bed, causing my head to only ache more. I couldn't hear the television nor any movement in the house so I figured everyone was still asleep. I searched the room for ten minutes before I found clean clothes. Again I recognized them to be my own. I quietly opened the door to the bedroom and tiptoed to the bathroom. I made sure the door was locked before taking a shower.
“My arm. It hurts.” I said through gritted teeth. But it wasn't just my arm that hurt; my entire body hurt. My head, my arm, the entire left side of my body. I was bruised and battered, both physically and mentally. At this point, I just wanted the pain to go away. When the Joker parked the car in the garage, I jumped out and ran for the garage door. I'm sure the Joker was confused by my decision to ran in the house and not away from it.
I headed directly to the small bathroom. From the silence, I figured the guys were still disposing of the body. I kicked myself for letting my mind wonder back to them. I rummaged through the medicine cabinet but all I found was a bunch of old, empty bottles. I even looked in the cupboard beneath the sink but it was empty. The Joker appeared in the doorway and looked on as I went through the medicine cabinet to make sure I didn't miss anything. “What in the world are you looking for?” He asked in a teasing voice.
I exhaled slowly. The pain, I was certain it was the physical version not the mental, was becoming almost unbearable. I felt a strong urge to bang my head against the mirror in hope making the pain go away.. “I have a fucking headache. I need an Advil or a Tylenol. Hell, even a fuckin' Midol would suffice.” I wasn't a big user of profanity but when those words started to slip out it was hard to stop them.
The Joker seemed a little taken aback by my sudden use of obscene language. “You could have just asked. No need to get all bitchy about it.” I followed him out of the bathroom and down the hallway. I stopped at the end of the counter while the Joker continued on to the refrigerator. He opened the white dingy door and produce two beer bottles. He threw one in my direction, which I caught but not without a sharp pain. Maybe this man was insane. I asked for Midol and he gave me alcohol.
“You're not serious, are you?” I asked cautiously. I was a lot of things but I wasn't a drinker, at least not anymore. There was probably only one law which I'd never broke; the legal drinking age. I decided it was best not to drink when I spent most of my time in the presence of men I truly didn't know. I found this to be a similar situation.
“Kid, the only medication in this house is in your hand. Take it or leave it.” I looked down at the bottle in my hand and then back to the Joker, who was still standing smugly next to the frig. The pain in my head made the decision for me. I walked cautiously to the refrigerator door, opened it, and grabbed another beer to go with the one already in my hand. When I closed the door a small metal bottle opener had appeared in the Joker's hand. “Cheers.” He said with a grin.
When I woke up the next morning, I promised myself that I would never drink again. Sure the pain in my torso and limbs were gone but the pain in my head had only seemed to grow. I couldn't remember anything from the previous night but I still had all my clothes on, so I figured that was a good thing. When I looked out the small window I could see the sun rising in the east. According to the round clock hanging on the wall it was 6:35. It was early, much too early for my hangover and I, but I still couldn't go back to sleep.
After a short while of rolling around in the bed, trying to force my body to go back to sleep, I climbed out of the bed, or more like fell out of bed, causing my head to only ache more. I couldn't hear the television nor any movement in the house so I figured everyone was still asleep. I searched the room for ten minutes before I found clean clothes. Again I recognized them to be my own. I quietly opened the door to the bedroom and tiptoed to the bathroom. I made sure the door was locked before taking a shower.